


A Study in Crimson

by gardnerhill



Series: A Study In Crimson [1]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen, International Talk Like A Pirate Day, Pirate Sherlock, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 05:05:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The storylet that started it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Study in Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> In July 2011, the LJ community [Watson's Woes](http://watsons-woes.livejournal.com/) did a prompt-a-day challenge for the entire month. The prompt for July 4th was "a non-British holiday" - and for some reason my mind went to September 19, aka [International Talk Like A Pirate Day](http://www.talklikeapirate.com/piratehome.html). And this happened. "A Study in Crimson: The Press-Gang" is essentially a prequel to this snippet.

"All hands on deck!" went up the cry aboard the privateer _Baker_. And all hands mean all one o' mine; I hobbled up fast as could be, cursing that wry old timber of mine (chain-shot off the Mediterranean). Old Mrs. Hudson creaked and groaned as the boat passed her great wooden figure at the prow and came alongside to hand her passenger aboard. Billy the cabin boy piped the lubber aboard, and I fell in one step behind the captain to greet our next job.

Got a good eye for our jobs, the captain has, and one can't help picking up his way of sizing up the men who come to us. This fellow was high up in the Andaman colony's government, if those fine togs and his stylish wig (no more than 3 years behind London fashion) spoke true. When he spoke, his accent didn't carry a drop of island-cant, nor sailor-talk; pure blue. "Captain Holmes?"

Cap'n grinned the way he always does. "Shear-Lock, if you please. 'Holmes' is a right honorable Navy officer, he is – I'm nought but a dirty pirate." Wiggins grinned at the wheel. "Vice-governor Morstan, how may I place my humble ship at your service?"

The man made a small start at being so identified, but recovered well and even made a tiny smile, as if it pained him to make it. "You come well-spoken, Captain, however you style yourself. I need not see your Letter of Marque," he added, seeing me pull out the priceless document to display it for our client. "The _Baker_ 's reputation speaks for itself."

"Pirates," some calls us and sneers, wishing us only the charity of a good length of English hemp. But those who know what needs doing come to us with gold in hand; we slip like eels around the Royal Navy while they're still lining their arses up on deck for inspection, and by the time Admiral Holmes has the _Victoria_ pointed toward the source of the trouble little bonny _Baker_ is heading back to her berth on Sholto Island with the "trouble" settling in for tea with Davy Jones. If old Shear-Lock is in a high mood he'll fire the cannon past his elder brother's flagship and laugh at how the man must curse us all.

Cap'n nodded – he liked the fellow already, I could see. "Ship's surgeon One-Hand Jack," he said, and Morstan started as I sketched a salute with my bonesaw-hand. "Don't be fooled – the man's a beaut with that thing, faster at whipping off a man's leg than any ship's leech still wearing both paws." I busied myself secreting the document and hid a smile of my own; Cap'n never told the clients that I was also the deadliest pistol-shot aboard. "Has the neatest writing-hand aboard so he'll be joining us in my cabin for our parley, to keep the logbook. Rest yourself, Vice-Governor," he added, seeing the man's eyes narrow. "Jack don't spill me business. Ever. Proved it."

Again, I held up the steel "hand" and saw Morstan relax when he understood. The old ghost-pain throbbed a bit and I grinned to hide it. Lost the first one, y'see, a nail at a time and then a finger at a time, for not telling Admiral Moriarty where Shear-Lock was berthed. Cap'n cut the bastard before he fled and the _Bakers_ came to save me; the Admiral's got the scar under both eyes to this day and both have sworn to end the other. Shear-Lock cursed nonstop for three days, and the whole crew raised the brass to have the bonesaw put in as my new "hook." Damned if I'm not as good as ever with it.

"Very well, Captain Shear-Lock. Doctor," Morstan said. "To business."

"Billy! Tea!" Cap'n bellowed, turning to match Morstan's stride to his cabin in the stern. Didn't look behind him to see if I followed; as always, he don't need to.


End file.
